


Five Times Bucky Missed Steve’s Birthday

by MsBluesunflower



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 5+1 Things, Captain America: The First Avenger, Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Post-Serum, Pre-Serum, birthday fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-29
Updated: 2014-04-29
Packaged: 2018-01-21 05:57:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1540157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsBluesunflower/pseuds/MsBluesunflower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>...and one time he didn't. 5+1 things. Fluff with feels.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Times Bucky Missed Steve’s Birthday

**Author's Note:**

> A birthday present for my favorite person in the world. Fluff with feels. Enjoy :)

 

The first time it happened, they were only kids.

Steve’s mom made Steve’s favorite raspberry chocolate cake—a rare luxury in their house, back then. The entire house was filled with the mixed smell of cream and sugar and cocoa, a smell that could brighten up anyone’s bad day.

It didn’t make Steve smile, though, because Bucky was sick.

As far as Steve could remember, Bucky was never sick. Steve was always the one that had to be put in bed and taken care of, and Bucky would come over once every couple of hours to check on him, no matter how many times Steve’s mom told him not to worry. This month seemed to be the peak of the flu season around the neighborhood. Bucky caught it and Steve didn’t.

So Bucky’s mom refused to let Steve into the house. Even though it was his birthday.

 _Especially that it was his birthday._ “Nobody should get sick on their birthday, Stevie dear.” She had said.

Bucky appeared to think so too.

Steve sat brooding on the couch for the entire afternoon. His mom was too busy putting icing and fresh raspberry on the cake to comfort her stubborn son. She sighed and let him be, knowing perfectly well that even the cake wouldn’t change a thing, so long as Bucky didn’t show up.

There was a knock on the door.

Steve jumped right off of the couch and rushed to the door—probably the fastest he’d ever been at running. There was a light of surprise and excitement in his eyes when he pulled the door wide open.

The light dimmed when he saw no one there, before looking down and discovering a box wrapped in newspaper.

Inside the box was a brand new sketchbook, the one Steve had been staring at whenever they walked pass the art supply store. There was a scribbled note in the package that read:

 

_So you can stop looking at it and actually listen to me talking when we walk by that art supply place next time._

_Happy birthday, Punk._

_SAVE ME THE CAKE!!!_

Steve laughed out loud.

Later that night, Bucky heard shuffling in the bushes by his window followed by a clinking sound. When he peeked outside, in front of him was a piece of raspberry chocolate cake sitting on a china plate.

Steve Rogers was ten. The day didn’t end up so bad.

* * *

The second time, it was Bucky who forgot.

He met a gorgeous girl in a club the night before. He was thrilled when she said yes to a movie night invitation.

Watching his best friend getting all dressed up for the night, completely forgotten about his birthday, Steve didn’t say anything. He pulled on such a lame smile when Bucky walked out of the door. The tiny flat suddenly seemed so empty.

Steve didn’t have the time to make himself a cake, now that his mom was gone. He did buy a chocolate cupcake from that bakery a block away from their flat, though, and lit himself a candle.

He didn’t make a wish before he blew it out.

He ate the cupcake as he continued to work on a sketch of his mom, in her flowery apron, mixing cake batter in a bowl. Bucky stood outside the kitchen impatiently, waiting for the cake to be done.

It was a perfect sketch.

He fell asleep on the couch before Bucky returned, halfway through the movie, cursing under his breath when he ran up the flights of stairs and opened the door. Steve vaguely knew Bucky was back when the sketchbook was carefully taken out of his grip, a fuzzy blanket was wrapped around him. He felt the heat of Bucky’s palm against his cheek. His voice kept murmuring, “I’m so sorry”.

Steve managed to open his eyes, when a pair of soft, warm lips tentatively touched his.

Steve Rogers was eighteen. Bucky Barnes forgot about his birthday, but he made up for it.

* * *

The next time, it was no one’s fault.

The war raged on. There was no time for things like birthdays.

He went through the experiment of the serum. The person who stood in the mirror everyday since then seemed completely different and foreign.

He had no one whom he could confide such feelings in, when his mission was to advocate war bonds.

Bucky was halfway across the world from him, behind barbed wires, at the heart of danger.

There were letters back and forth, words of reassurance and affection, and Steve tried to convince himself that it was enough.

When he lay awake at night, however, often came surges of longing that drove him mad. He craved for a touch, a kiss, an embrace…or anything else physically tangible and reassuring that could last him through the cold and empty hours.

He picked up a photo of them taken on Coney Island, held it in front of his eyes and stared at it, as if then he could go back in time to the good old days.

He shoved it under his pillow as the clock struck twelve.

Steve Rogers was twenty-one. That night, he dreamed that Bucky Barnes was by his side again.

* * *

The fourth time, he was too numb to feel anything anymore.

For months he had avoided acknowledging Bucky’s death. His actions in missions had been violent and almost suicidal.

He couldn’t anymore on this particular day.

For years, especially after his mother’s death, Bucky had always been with him on this day. Although birthdays seemed to be something superheros shouldn’t care about, and Steve didn’t, in fact, for his spent too much time facing death to remember how old he actually was, he still secretly missed the smell chocolate and the sound of Bucky’s laughter.

The laughter he’d never hear again, of his best friend, his comrade…his lover.

He wondered if the serum did something to his memory too, that the past Steve Rogers and his life seemed to be covered in a thin layer of fog. The more he tried to pull out those memories, study them, relive them in his mind so he could hold on to the past, the more they slip away like sands in a fist. He feared that there would be a day, when he would forget the mischief and affection in Bucky’s voice, the sweet poison on his lips, and the way he looked at him like nothing else in this world could possibly matter more. He feared that there would be a day, when all that plagued his mind would be the hand reached one second too late, that deadly valley covered in white snow, and the roaring sound of the train that wouldn’t stop.

He felt as if a knife was stabbed deep into his heart. He could almost hear the splashing of blood and the last beat of that fragile organ. Yet there was no pain.

Steve Rogers was twenty-three. He looked at the cake Peggy and Howard bought him, and left it untouched.

* * *

The fifth time, he wasn’t alone.

He was surrounded by a group of people that were as weird as him, people who laugh at the fact that he was almost a century old.

He woke up to a brave new world, dangerous nonetheless, but better after all.

Natasha and Tony practically dragged him into the pub on his birthday. Fury and Thor weren’t opposed. Clint and Banner happily accepted the invitation also. Tony recommended drinks that ended up tasting horrible. The bartender stopped flirting with Natasha after receiving death glares from Clint. Many young girls in the pub eyed Steve with obvious interest, making him feel rather uncomfortable.

It wasn’t a bad thing, being surrounded by these people. It somehow reminded him of his time with the Commandos.

But there was something missing.

And he knew, it had always been Bucky. After almost seventy years, those pain and emotions were still fresh like it all happened yesterday. It hit him hard, when he saw a gay couple kissing in the pub while their friends cheered and whistled, how happy they could’ve been, had Bucky stayed alive and by his side.

He went to the Smithsonian after the party ended, not so much drunk as emotional. Standing in front of the screen watching the video footage that captured how they laughed together during the toughest times, Steve once again was reminded how much they had loved each other. He noticed that light in Bucky's eyes, when courage was hard to find and hope was faint, that spoke the loyalty and devotion that could be found in no other.

He pulled on his baseball cap and turned around to leave. The tears were something he wasn’t ready for the world to see.

Steve Rogers was twenty-four. He missed Bucky Barnes more than ever.

* * *

“Bucky?” He opened the door to his apartment and smelled something burnt. He took off his jacket and walked toward the kitchen, “Are you making something?”

When he saw him, Bucky was still wearing his striped pajamas and brown sandals, his hair pulled back and his metal arm concealed by the long sleeve. His human hand was gripping the whisker while his metal hand was holding the bowl in place. It seemed so much more natural now, as he started to accept his metal arm as a part of him instead of a destructive weapon. 

The scene made Steve feel warm and fuzzy inside.

The day Steve fell off of the helicarrier and hit the water, it was Bucky who pulled him ashore. Steve would be eternally thankful of the moment when he returned to his apartment from the hospital and saw Bucky sitting on his couch drinking a glass of orange juice.

It’s been two month since Bucky started to remember bits and pieces from their past life. Steve refused to push him or force him remembering anything that didn’t come naturally. Even if it meant that Bucky probably would never discover the truth about their relationship.

Steve did not expect, when Bucky turned around, to see his face smeared with flour, butter and chocolate.

He couldn’t help but burst out laughing.

Bucky looked embarrassed before giving Steve a glare and turning back to his mixing bowl.

Steve cleared his throat to stop himself from cracking up again. He approached Bucky carefully, “What are you making?”

Bucky pointed at the ipad placed on the kitchen counter that was also covered in flour. A recipe was displayed on the screen.

Raspberry chocolate cake.

Steve’s heart beat fast and loud in his chest.

On the counter were a ton of ingredients: A box of raspberry, a bag of flour, some eggs, sugar and chocolate. There were already two failed attempts of the cake that were sitting aside. The large mixing bowl in front of Bucky was apparently for the third one.

“Why did you want to make cake?”

Steve tried to control himself from asking desperate questions that would overwhelm him.

Bucky’s hand movement stopped. He rested the whisker on the side and turned around to face Steve.

"It’s your birthday, idiot.”

It sounded like the answer was obvious.

Steve heard his own sharp intake of breath.

“How did you remember? Do you remember any more than that?”

Bucky realized what he had said after a few moments. He blinked, trying to remember when the memory came back to him, yet more flashbacks came along.

He saw his ten-year-old self lying in bed, eating a piece of chocolate cake with a huge smile on his face. He saw himself a couple years older, running up flights of stairs, covering Steve with a blanket and saying sorry.

He saw himself leaning closer for a kiss.

He saw himself in the dark and lonely trenches, writing letters with the valediction that always read “ever yours, Bucky”.

He came out of the flashbacks and met Steve’s bright, anticipating eyes.

 “I remember......us.”

There was a moment when Steve saw that same light in Bucky’s eyes, one that shone only for him, one that had been lost for far too long.

Before Steve knew it, his arms were wrapped around Bucky, lips connected to his for the kiss overdue. Bucky stayed still for a second, genuinely surprised and not knowing what to do, before his old instinct kicked in and he placed his hand on the back of Steve’s neck, kissing him back with certainty, his tongue in Steve's mouth. His forgotten senses and feelings awoke within him, as they finally picked up where they left off seventy years ago, after death, pain and turmoil.

The feeling was so right and perfect, even after so long. It broke Steve's heart.

They parted after what seemed like ages. Before Steve could say anything, Bucky dipped his hand into the whipped cream and smeared it onto his lover’s gorgeous face.

They laughed like lunatics.

Steve Rogers was twenty-six. Bucky Barnes came back into his life, and he couldn’t possibly ask for more.


End file.
